Chris's suspicion was a blade, bright and steady. "If you're lying, I'll know," he said, voice low enough to make Mia curl tighter into the couch cushions.
Lucas didn't flinch. He leaned closer to the screen, green eyes steady, his smile thin and merciless. "Then test me. You want a way out of that glass cage? I'll send you one."
Chris narrowed his eyes. "How?"
Lucas's tone dropped, edged with the calm precision of someone who had lived too long under perfect security nets. "Public places. That's where the cracks always are. Doesn't matter how many men he lines up at your door. He can't glue them to your hip when there are civilians, press, or allies watching. Security works best on familiar ground, but the moment the terrain shifts, there's air between the cracks. You slip through that air, because the last thing that makes security efficient is you being cooperative."
Chris's jaw tightened, silver eyes narrowing. "You talk like someone who's been caged."
